


Nyctophilia

by BlixaLooksCarsick



Category: Persona 5, Shin Megami Tensei, persona - Fandom
Genre: After Game, F/M, Prologue to major event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-17 02:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15451068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlixaLooksCarsick/pseuds/BlixaLooksCarsick
Summary: A strange, unforeseen event - harmless only on the surface. In truth, a seed of chaos has been sown.Something ominous looms yet unseen on the horizon.





	1. The Kawasaki Blackout

**Author's Note:**

> Who knows if we're ever getting an enhanced re-release of Persona 5.
> 
> Regardless, here is the beginning to a story I'm still building a structure to: the world will need the Phantom Thieves once again.
> 
> I have a weakness for prologues, and this one will be a two-parter. At the very least, I want to set the tone for what kind of story this will be.

Strange things have occurred in virtually every corner of the world; events that defy rational explanation, that hold captivity over the collective fascination and bafflement. The blackout in a small town within the coastal city of Kawasaki hardly stands out among such odd occurrences. The event was briefly described within a small column in the newspaper as a peculiar incident taken place on a September evening. Everything had gone dark within the confines of the fishing town. Services, electronics, and power lines went unresponsive, and communication was cut off in and out for a span of two hours. No serious incidents occurred during that time, and no infrastructure damages were reported that could explain the sudden blackout. 

The Kawasaki Blackout. It would have gone forgotten entirely if not for a brief series of coincidences unfolding in a small café in Tokyo. It began with a young couple dropping by for lunch at their favourite hangout - a place of memories, coffee and curry. The owner, Sojiro “Boss” Sakura had a hefty share of culinary skills, jaded charisma and business wisdom to keep LeBlanc a favourite among his customers. The young couple, however, had more than one reason to frequent the café. At some point, LeBlanc became the anonymous headquarters to the infamous Phantom Thieves, a group that sought justice from the shadows. Ryuji Sakamoto and Ann Takamaki were both part of the fold…

… As was his adoptive daughter Futaba, much to his initial bemusement. Although she partook of the same perils as the rest of the Phantom Thieves, her involvement pulled her out of her seemingly pathological reclusiveness. A year and a half ago, he would have not dared dream Futaba would now be a first year student in high school. She joined them that afternoon, taking her usual spot at the counter. 

“Sojiroooo! Where’s my curry?” The girl with bright orange hair demanded.

“Have you done your homework yet?” Sojiro faked a gruff reply.

“I need sustenance to start it! My education depends on you providing me curry! Massive, massive amounts!”

“Hey, Futaba! We’re trying to have a romantic moment here!” Ryuji protested from the booth.

“Ugh, teenagers…” Futaba made as if to gag.

“Hey now, Ryuji. We’re supposed to encourage Futaba to take her studies seriously.” Ann joined in. 

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“Futaba!” Ann raised her voice.

“Hey now, you three. Don’t make me call mum and dad.” Sojiro gave an affable threat. From the moment he learned about the full extent of the Phantom Thieves’ work, he easily spotted the functioning hierarchy in the group. Though all regarded each other equally, there was a clear axis of leadership maintained by Akira Kurusu and Makoto Niijima. The former was the young man under his care during his wrongful transfer to Tokyo for a year, and the latter was an honour student and student council president at Shujin. As far as Boss could see, the pair looked over their friends as if they were family; in the end, they proved just as close and dear.

“Yes, Boss.” Ryuji, Ann, and Futaba spoke in unison.

“Good behaviour. That’s what I like to see.” Sojiro smirked.

“By the way, when is Akira visiting?” Ryuji asked.

“I’m guessing sometime in November, before he chains himself to his desk till January.” Boss said. “See, he’s taking his studies seriously.”

“That’s too long!” Futaba complained. “He’s coming back for good, right?”

“If he managed to convince his parents. Kid has a high mountain to climb there.” Boss remarked as he grabbed the newspaper to try and finish the crossword he started that morning. Something at the corner of his eye snatched his attention, though.

“I bet he’ll make it.” Ann said with conviction. “Still, I was hoping he’d be around for Christmas. I’ve been wanting to go on a double date for a while.”

“Yo, we can make it a triple if Futaba asks Yusuke.” Ryuji teased. 

“Shut it! There will be no Inari talk at the table!” Futaba yelled.

“Damn it.” Sojiro growled. He reached for his cell phone and walked outside.

“Boss?” Ryuji asked in confusion.

“What was that about?” Ann asked.

“Who knows? Maybe he doesn’t appreciate Inari talk at the table.” Futaba snarked. 

“Hmm, weird to see him like that, though.” Ryuji said. “Come on, let’s go. Maybe it’s important.”

“Hey, it’s rude to snoop!” Ann protested, as she nonetheless followed her boyfriend outside.

The three found Sojiro outside the café, his cell phone held between his ear and his shoulder as he lit a cigarette. He turned to look at the Futaba and his friends, but did not seem to particularly mind them. 

“Hey, I just read what happened in the paper. You guys okay?” Sojiro asked. “Good to know. Accidents happen easily like that. How’s your husband?” The cigarette’s end glowed hot as he inhaled a mouthful of smoke. “Okay, things are good at home, I see. And, uh, how’s the kid?”

There was a pause. His sharp eyebrows rose with undecipherable emotion. It then became clear to the three youths who Sojiro was calling. They had met Akira’s parents when they accompanied their friend and leader on his return to his hometown in Kawasaki. Despite the bittersweet farewell, the Phantom Thieves returned to Tokyo with serenity and hope. Judging by Boss’ sudden call, something had occurred in the vicinity. But the brief reassurance lasted only so long, as now a chill crept down their spines.

“I see.” Sojiro’s tone betrayed concern. “Yes. Has a doctor seen him?” 

The incompleteness of the conversation made them uneasy. Ryuji felt his foot descend into a tapping frenzy against the ground. Ann fidgeted with a string on her sweatshirt. Futaba was frightfully still. Amidst the tense atmosphere, Sojiro seemed to maintain his composure; his experience dealing with tremulous situation outlasted the time they lived. Still, the worry slowly pierced through his stoic demeanour. 

“Tell me, is the cat around him?” Sojiro asked, referring to Morgana, a manifestation of humanity’s hope shaped into a feline package – a most peculiar one amongst the Phantom Thieves. “I see. Good, let him be around Akira.”

“S-Sojiro?” Futaba asked with a whimper of a voice, involuntarily.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll let her know. Thank you, Masako. Keep me posted.” Sojiro ended the call. His reluctance to turn and look at Futaba, Ryuji and Ann was palpable.

“Boss?” Ann pleaded to know if something had happened to Akira. Ryuji said nothing, though a shake in his lip and the distress in his eyes said it all. Futaba looked to be on the verge of tears.

He let out a long sigh. 

“You may want to sit down, and call the others.”


	2. A Leisurely Stroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira Kurusu is a young man who enjoys the fine, and the simple, things of life. Thus, he has always enjoyed going out on the evenings. Often, only to wander and taste the cityscape around him. Though his instincts have grown sharp, some nights are more suitable than others.

“No.” Akira groaned dejectedly. He had bought the game several months ago. Though he looked forward to playing it, his time was carefully devoted to a variety of commitments: his studies, a part time job at a café to keep his skills honed, Wing Chun training, volunteer assistant to a local jazz band, and strolls with Morgana. One day, with finals supremely aced and well behind, and a brief hiatus for the band, Akira could finally have an hour all to himself, to play Digital Demon Odyssey – an obscure game with a devoted cult following. 

The game’s prologue featured a captivating story; and although it was well written, it was also not kind on heavy eyelids or short attention spans, and there were no save points for a good hour or so upon starting the game. Akira started to realise he may have chosen the wrong night to start playing. Tired and weary from a headache that had persisted since early afternoon, he craved for an opportunity to save and call it a night. He knew it was nearby – literally around a corner. But as soon as the cylindrical device was on screen, everything went black. 

Morgana slept next to him, curled up into a black and white ball of fur. Even now, the slightest change in the setting sufficed to wake him up.

“Huh? What happened!?” Morgana asked with words only Akira and his friends could hear. The sound of the neighbourhood’s dogs barking outside added to his alarm,

“Just a blackout.” Akira answered as he stood up from his bed, groping along the way to set the controller down by the console. 

“A what?”

“It’s an electrical failure of sorts. The lights should come back… any second now.” The young man responded with a sigh. He looked at his telephone. It was eight in the evening – too early to turn in. Less than half of the battery remained – too short a time to have a proper read in the dark. 

“Oh. So, what do we do?” Morgana stood up, stretching the slumber out of his limbs. 

“We wait.” Akira looked out the window on his room. There were no lights in town, as far as the eye could reach. 

“Ah well. If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll go back to sleep.” The talking cat turned around in a circle to find his sweet spot on Akira’s bed. It was still warm.

“Go for it.”

How long had it been? A couple of minutes? Maybe ten? Akira did not bother to look at the time on his telephone. He chose to lay down next to his friend in wait for the power to return or for sleep to come over him, yet something distracted him. The breeze came in gentle from the window, a hint of life regardless of human involvement. The night sky was clear, and stars were in sight. Akira thought himself foolish for not noticing it earlier. 

Something stirred in him every time he looked at the stars above. Their beauty he never took for granted, but the small wonder they once conjured metamorphosed into sweet melancholy on the passing of a year. To him, it was no longer a myriad distant lights, mindlessly adorning the skies, but a moment he experienced with people he held so dear, those he hoped to return to and never leave again. The stars were eight friends laying on the grass, looking out into the celestial vault; the smell of rain that washed the soil fertile; the dominance of silence defied by the sound of their breaths; the words that needed not be said with the tongue; his fingers discreetly, warmly laced with hers. 

“Hey, Mona.” Akira called out. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk. Won’t be long.”

“Okay… no wait.” Morgana emerged from sleep. “Are you sure? Sounds a bit dangerous if there’s no light outside.”

“It’ll be alright. I know this neighbourhood well enough.”

“If you say so.” Morgana went back to sleep. “Bring me sushi when you get back.”

“In your dreams, kitty.” Akira teased. He got an annoyed, incoherent grumble in response. It might not be sushi, but he could at least ask his father to feed Morgana a little of the week’s fishing. 

Akira groped his way to the front door. Both his mother’s keyring and his own hung from the hooks by the door. She made no sound when the blackout occurred, so he supposed she may be sleeping. He kept quiet as he turned the key and twofold so when shutting the door behind him. The night’s air embraced him cool with a hint of seawater. Under the cover of the dark, the salt clung to his nostrils quite unlike any other time. The moon waxed gibbous; its light sufficed to make out the street winding uphill and the alleyways branching north. Across from the entryway, he could still make out the shape of a fire hydrant, sunken whole in the dark.

What little traffic one could see commonly at this hour night was void. No other soul seemed to be braving the night either. The streets were virtually left empty for he to roam. Spectres of the commonplace like whimpering, howling animals, and complaining neighbours remained, but somehow dulled beneath the sound of the wind. Akira found it unsettlingly musical. Maybe, he thought to himself, it was product of a song stuck in his head or some trickery of his wistful mood. After all, given what he experienced as a Phantom Thief, he was truly the last person fitting to doubt the influence of the mind on the world outside. 

Akira continued to walk uphill towards a small park a few minutes away. He planned to sit at the bench by the jungle gym for a brief look at the townscape, and then return home, but as he walked on, he felt soothed by the absence of lights. It was as if he were a foreigner in a new land, prey to fascination at each invisible little detail to his surroundings. He felt this way in Tokyo and Hawaii; he surely would feel this way in Paris, Prague, New York, or London, if someday he were to visit. There was no telling how long he would have left to enjoy his dwellings like this. As far he knew, this moment of solitude could be his best and last souvenir before the place returned to normal.

When he finally reached the park, the jungle gym and the bench, it felt like minutes turned to seconds, even though he never hastened his pace beyond a leisurely stroll. This old bench felt warm to the touch. The crunch of leaves underfoot and the smell of grass welcomed him into the nightly seat. And though he could see nothing below the skies, he hardly needed to: the humble shine of moon and stars were enough. To his amusement, he imagined a young Sojiro Sakura sitting at some place like this, lighting a cigarette and observing the lights in the sky. One blink, and the imagined scene changed into Sojiro chatting the hours away with Futaba’s mother, Wakaba.

Akira let out a sigh. He wondered about the people he left behind in Tokyo. The phone calls to and from were common, as were the video sessions, but distance was still a hard barrier to breach, too tangible and uncompromising. All year he had devoted great efforts to securing his place in a culinary school in Tokyo; his diligence appeared to be paying off. All of a sudden, a guilty pang rose in his stomach. For he yearned to return to his friends, he was quite willing to leave his parents behind in a similar manner. No matter where he was, a sense of longing would always cling to his heart. 

“No use.” Akira said to himself. He stood and started walking back downhill. There was no apparent hint that the power would return soon, and the view lost its appeal rather quickly. A minute, an hour longer would make no difference. His time at the moment could be equally spent here or in his bed to the same result: absolutely nothing. 

And yet, his senses suggested otherwise. The stray hairs on his arms and the back of his neck swayed gentle to the breeze gone unnaturally warm. And much the same as the autumn wind giving in to the strange, Akira gave in to the allure of the night. There was a hint of a path nearby. He could see it clearly though no light shone on its entrance; he simply knew it was there, sandwiched between the pharmacy and a bicycle shop going back downhill. It was not there before.

The voice of caution in his mind had long mutated into Morgana’s, but tonight it went mysteriously quiet. He knew the actual Morgana would warn him against walking into the alley. Furthermore, he would rack his brain and tongue over this sudden phenomenon. Akira would, could and should suspect an intervention of the uncanny. Might this be an unlikely crack opening into the Metaverse? Something else, perhaps? Yaldabaoth, God of Control, waited at the end of the Phantom Thieves’ journey. His defeat at their hands was definite. But although his plan to assimilate the realm of Mementos with the real world to attain control over human kind was thwarted, did that actually seal tangible access into the Metaverse? 

This night brought something into comprehension: a grand palette of possibilities, all resonating from the unknown. Akira rationalised these were pressing matters. His better sense alerted him to turn back and talk to Morgana and to be cautious down the line, to be prepared and remain competent, should the need arise. But his body did not obey the command of his brain. He was intoxicated by the dark, and he knew it well – he was going to follow this new alleyway to the very end. His steps through the absolute black were nimble and secure, and completely devoid of any familiarity with this place. He did not need to see where he was going. He knew the way, but did not know the destination.

A turn around a corner. Several metres straight ahead. Another turn, and another, spiralling on itself. He should have met a wall, or ended back where he first walked, yet no such thing. This was a brand new pathway, broader than before, more spacious than any street in this part of town. The way began to slope. Akira felt his legs move forward, uphill once more, to a bench by the jungle gym in the park. But this was not his park. The wind kept on whistling, warm on the skin as joy. It felt like returning to where he had gone before. But the moon and the stars had disappeared from the sky. 

Akira felt for the pulse on his neck. Slow, calm. By all accounts, he should be feeling the tension rise from within, the first spasms of panic creep outwards from the narrow of his bones. His mind should be heaping with thoughts of escape, resistance, defence. However, his survival instinct was numb, laid to sleep like a tranquilised lion. In its stead, the only thought forming an image was how he could not possibly share this moment with Makoto. He would have never gone out on a stroll if he did not feel some appeal for the darkness. She, on the other hand, cared little for it. All the same, he knew, she would walk at his side, against her own fears, if they were together. 

“Makoto…” He said, even though he could not hear his own voice over the wind. Was he calling out for her, as a cry for help, as a cry of longing? Did he want her to keep him company in this moment? His hand rose to his chin in contemplation, but he did not move his arm himself. He nibbled on his lower lip, but he did not will it. His eyes looked down at his legs. And he screamed in horror.

Only for an instant, his legs were not his own – but a mass of oily, wiry black tentacles, forming into the shape of legs. They coiled, slid against one another, tangling as untangling as if struggling to get the measurements right. His heart beat rapid against his chest. The tempo of fear sent cold sweat down his back. And he knew that if he were to look again, he would see more than his own legs. He would see two different, though identical sets occupying the same place at the same time, same with his arms, his chest and head. Same with his heart, though they did not share a single beat. 

Akira got up from the bench, cautiously separating himself from the other ‘him’, frozen in contemplative state. He stared at his copy in disbelief. A sudden burst of anger, ill-fitting to the situation: if his body was being mimicked, were his thoughts as well? Was this ‘Akira’ thinking of Makoto, of that sweet girl who commanded his heartbeats, whom he wished to see every night in dreams, whom he longed to return to? 

His blood bubbled hot in his veins. An instinct of protection dominated over all, even over fear and repulsion. Alas, he could not do a thing. The priority now was to find his way back home. The blackness dominated still, but he could not see where he was going like before. Disoriented, he could only pick one direction and walk unflinchingly straight, groping around him for any hint of location. In this time of vulnerability, every step conjured the memory of a friend, a situation, a peril, and a day overcome. Only the thought of Makoto, Ryuji, Ann, Morgana, Yusuke, Futaba, and Haru could keep his pace constant as he wandered, lost in the unnatural night. 

A minute later, he saw a light ahead, a glimmer of a colour he could not place. A lamp hanging in the middle of an infinite street. As he drew closer, he was able to see more. There were six figures gathered in a circle around the lamp, far from each other, looking each away from the light. He could not judge whether they were a manner of people, or misshapen statues. Their feet were rooted to the ground by what looked like petrified tentacles. Their faces, all contorted in an amalgam of emotions, of consequence. 

Six figures. 

Despoiled, broken, violated… 

He felt no more fear where he stood, only cold, bitter heartache. A mourning pain that made he wish he were dead. Akira felt too defeated to weep or scream. He stood as still as the rest.

“… I know you’re hiding the chocolate! I’m gonna find it, you know?” A familiar voice echoed in the distance. Sounded like a thousand, with the same tone and pitch.

“Alright, already! It’s in the cupboard behind the canned squid! Help yourself, Ann.” He could hear it well over the whistling wind. 

Akira felt weak in the knees, exhausted and in pain. He turned around, trying to find the source of the voices, to no avail. But for all the hopelessness of the present, he could not allow himself to give in. Despite falling to the ground, he would drag himself onward if needed be.

His heart slowed down, then it stopped.

\-----------------------------

“Hmmm-hmmmm-hmmm-hmmmmmmm.” 

Akira heard her mindlessly hum a tune. He felt as if his eyelids croaked with rust as they opened. He felt confused as to where he was for a moment only. Warm yellow sepia light bathed the inside of his room. The lights were off, but the opaque sunset was kind to his sight. A cat sat on the windowsill, looking outside, wagging his tail with melancholic motion. His laptop was on the desk, with the screen oriented towards his bed. In the screen, he saw Makoto; she was looking away, as if distracted. A small pile of books could be seen at the corner of the screen, as well as a pen in her hand. She must be in the middle of studying, Akira thought. That was indeed the only logical thing he could piece together about the situation. As for everything else, he could not guess what was going on, or what happened before that moment.

Makoto turned her eyes back to her notebook, briefly stealing a sad look at the screen, and then back to her studying. Akira would have laughed if he was not so confused, as Makoto’s eyes quickly returned to him with shock. Her lips trembled and her face went pale. It was as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Ann! Come! Now!” Makoto yelled away from the screen. There was a vulnerable candour in her voice he had not heard before.

“What?” He could hear Ann responding from afar.

“He’s up. Oh God, he’s woken up!” Makoto’s voice was almost lacking for air. “Akira! You’re up.” She covered her mouth with her hand as if trying to keep her breath from escaping.

“Huh?” Morgana turned around to look at Akira. “You! How dare you worry us all like that!”

“What?” Akira knew nothing of what happened.

“Oh my God, Akira! Are you okay?” Ann came on screen. 

“Y-yeah. I, what happened?” He replied, grasping for word and thought.

“Don’t give me that! You know what happened!” Morgana sounded scorned.

“I don’t?” 

“Nevermind. Ann, please call the others.” Makoto spoke before turning to the camera. He could spot a teary glint in her eyes. “Akira. Please, please, you have got to stop scaring me like this…” The way she smiled at him both filled his chest with warmth and made him feel guilty.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to worry you, Makoto.” Akira apologised as best he could. “But I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t remember?” Makoto was visibly concerned.

“N-no, I-“

The door to his room opened violently. His fathered entered, face glistening with sweat. Takahisa’s eyes could be described as those of a madman by any outsider; Akira himself did not know what to make of his father’s expression. He only began to flinch at his father’s sudden movement when the hulking fisherman embraced his son with a strength he had never learned to control. Akira felt his lungs compress within. 

“Son…” Takahisa exhaled.

“D-dad… I… what…”

“I’m going to call your mother. Makoto-san, please keep an eye on him.” Takahisa hurried out of the room for the telephone downstairs.

“I will, Kurusu-san.” Makoto’s smile evidenced her relief, as well as her dread.

“Can someone tell me what happened?” Akira began to doubt he would want to know.

“You mean you really don’t remember sleepwalking all across town four days ago?” Morgana asked, all anger faded from his voice. 

“Four days ago!?” 

An hour later, everybody gathered in Akira’s room to disclose what happened. On the other side, his friends met all in Sae and Makoto’s apartment, linked to the place via Skope call. From what could be garnered, Akira went out on the night the blackout and did not return on his own. He was actually found wandering town, apparently sleepwalking. At some point, he fell down and hit his head. It was then that somebody found him and attempted to contact his family. Upon his parents finding out, the first course of action was getting the input of a neurologist to know if Akira suffered from any brain damage. 

Fortunately, results did not reveal any neurological damage suffered. Nonetheless, the strange nature of the event had his parents look further into it. In the end, the feasible cause was deemed a sleeping disorder; something plausible, given the amount of activities Akira had undertaken the past months with little rest. Upon receiving a call from Sojiro Sakura, asking about their well-being during the blackout, Masako and Takahisa thought prudent to let their son’s friends know about him. On their end, they decided to keep an eye on Akira by video calls, in case anything were to happen. 

The observation continued for a week after, even though no erratic sleep behaviour was seen again. In a month’s time, the incident would stop casting a shadow over their daily lives, and everything went back to normal. Akira still remembered nothing, but he cared little about that when he had more important affairs to occupy his mind. Namely exams, convincing his parents to allow him to transfer once more, and where and when to sneak in a surprise visit to his girlfriend – little to his knowledge, she already planned a quick surprise visit on her own in two weeks’ time.

Akira made sure to heed Morgana when he called lights out. A cat knows better, he thought to himself. Unsurprisingly, he teased his feline friend with that every now and then.

\-----------------------------

“It was quite as our benefactor said it would unfold. That is pleasing.” The man spoke to his self. “I am convinced, patience will pay off. I believe we will be enjoying the holidays. After all, we have procured our template… and what a template it is.”

He leans back on his chair ever so slightly to relax his back.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Ozymandias?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next piece will be character-focused. I believe it's Yusuke's turn.
> 
> I hope you like this one. I rather enjoyed the time I spent writing it. 
> 
> I'll also appreciate some feedback if you'd have some for me. 
> 
> Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wanted this to be a single text on its own, but I like the idea of leaving some suspense in the air. 
> 
> Following this prologue, I will be doing some mild character-focused stories. Morgana, Yusuke, Futaba and Haru haven't gotten to shine yet. 
> 
> After this, if the bones prove strong, I will start writing chapters to this major arc; working title: A Reign of One's Own


End file.
